No. 2334

Quenelles of Pheasant—Fried

Quenelles de Faisan Frites

With some raw pheasant meat taken from the breasts prepare a quenelle forcemeat (No. 91), and when passed through a sieve put it in a tin vessel and cook until smooth; mix in with it two spoonfuls of chopped truffles; use this to fill a dozen quenelle molds (Fig. 75); have the tops quite high and smooth. Range these molds on a raised-edge baking tin containing a little hot water; boil the liquid up twice, then cover the molds with buttered paper and poach uncovered in a slack oven; when firm to the touch remove. Cool them off partly before unmolding, then dip in eggs, then in bread-crumbs, fry and serve on a folded napkin with fried parsley on top.

← No. 2333 Quenelles of Partridge a la Stuart Miscellaneous Entrées No. 2335 Quenelles of Salmon—Stuffed →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes you have his forcemeat formula (No. 91) and a drawer of quenelle molds. The dish is straightforward once you accept that it is really two techniques stacked: a poached mousseline, then a standard breaded fry.

The hinge: keep the forcemeat coldA quenelle forcemeat is meat pounded with a panada and enriched with butter or cream, and it breaks if it warms. Ranhofer's "put it in a tin vessel and cook until smooth" is most likely a direction to work the mixture smooth in a metal vessel rather than to apply heat, though the printed wording is ambiguous. Either way, keep the mixture, the bowl and the molds cold.
Test before you commitPoach a teaspoon of the forcemeat in barely simmering water before filling twelve molds. If it falls apart, it needs more egg white; if it is rubbery, more cream. This is the only reliable check, and the original does not mention it.
"A slack oven"That means 275-300F. The molds sit in a water bath because the forcemeat must set gently; anything hotter curdles the cream out of it and the quenelles weep.
"Boil the liquid up twice"Most likely: bring the water in the baking tin to a boil on the stovetop, let it fall, bring it up again, then transfer to the oven, so the bath goes in already hot rather than heating slowly around the forcemeat.
DonenessFirm to the touch is the period test, and it works, but a poultry forcemeat should reach 165F at the center. Expect 15-25 minutes depending on the size of your molds.
MoldsRanhofer refers to a plate of quenelle molds (Fig. 75), not described in the text itself; quenelle molds of the period were small individual shapes. Buttered timbale molds, silicone half-spheres or well-buttered ramekins all work; fill them proud, as he says, since the mixture settles slightly.
Cool before unmolding"Cool them off partly" is not optional. A hot quenelle will slump the moment it leaves the mold and will not take a clean coat of egg and crumb. Let them firm up for twenty minutes, unmold, then bread them.
FryingDeep fat at 350-375F, one to two minutes, just to color and crisp. They are already cooked; longer only dries the interior. Fried parsley goes in for a few seconds at the same heat, well dried first, and spits.
Pheasant and trufflesFarmed pheasant breast is leaner and blander than the wild bird Ranhofer had; a little chicken fat or extra cream helps. Two spoonfuls of chopped fresh black truffle is a considerable expense today. Preserved truffle peelings, or finely chopped sauteed mushrooms with a few drops of truffle oil, give the color and much of the effect.
YieldTwelve quenelles, as the recipe specifies a dozen molds; no number of diners is given. As a first course today, two per person.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and it is organized like a professional reference rather than a home cookbook: the numbered cross-references, here to forcemeat No. 91 and mold Fig. 75, assume a kitchen with a pantry chef who already knows the base preparations. Quenelles were the test of that pantry. The word comes into French cooking from Alsace and is generally traced to the German Knödel, dumpling, though the refined version, meat pounded to a paste with panada and cream and poached to a pale, silky oval, belongs to nineteenth-century French practice rather than to any peasant dumpling. Frying them, as here, was a way of turning a delicate garnish into a dish that could stand on its own in the entrée service. Pheasant appears throughout this book because game was a staple of American restaurant menus in the period, when wild birds were still sold commercially and a fashionable dinner was expected to include a game course.